


It'll Be Our Secret

by lymongrab



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, I'm Sorry, M/M, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lymongrab/pseuds/lymongrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann wakes up with a mysterious bandage and a terrible hangover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'll Be Our Secret

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this one for a few weeks due to a terrible block, but its finally done, and although it's somewhat silly and I didn’t really know how to end it, I think it might be the best one I’ve done so far.
> 
> Cheers, Ly

Hermann awoke to the pounding of his own head and the smell of pancakes.

He sat up blearily, and took a swig of water from the glass on the nightstand. It took him a second to realize how dry his mouth had been, and how sloshy his stomach felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this miserable. A flu perhaps? He contemplated this as he downed the rest of the glass of water in one go. His stomach immediately disagreed with the intake of liquid and Hermann scrambled to the bathroom before retching water, bile, and something chemical out into the sink. As he turned on the tap to rinse out the basin, and his own mouth, it all came flooding back. 

He and Newton had gone out to a swanky Japanese bar with Raleigh and Mako the night before. Newton had been charming, to him, yes of course to him, but also to every cocktail waitress that flounced by their table, blatantly using his fluent Japanese to impress and flirt with them. Hermann had ordered a drink out of spite, on Newt’s tab no less. One, turned into two, and with Newt at least three drinks ahead of him, the small, bespectacled biologist had now fully turned his attention to his boyfriend. Flashing that devious grin of his up at Hermann, buying him drink after drink, Newt whispering sweet nothings to the lanky mathematician in German, Hermann whispering back, the rose in his cheeks and ears rising, a bit because of the booze, and a bit because of the attention he was receiving from Newt in public.

\--

The night ended with Newt’s hand on Hermann’s leg under the table, Mako and Raleigh leaving the two scientists at the bar, a few more drinks, a few schmaltzy grins from Newt, and an impromptu makeout session in the bathroom, which brought shame to Hermann’s head and heat to his ears and neck just thinking about his behavior the previous night.  _I don’t suppose I hold my liquor well_  he thought,  _I must do better to stay out of its way in the future_.  _Last night was not becoming or befitting of a man of my status and age_. He could just hear Newton saying something about losing inhibitions before everything went hazy in his memory, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in his own bed. This wasn’t a flu, this was a hangover. 

He looked down to see a patch of gauze about two and a half inches wide held on by surgical tape on he inside of his left forearm and groaned, dreading to be regaled with Newton’s version of how it got there.

He thumped into the kitchen, to find Newt just setting down the plates of greasy breakfast food on the table. Hermann’s stomach felt better than it had, but it definitley wasn’t ready for what the smaller scientist had prepared. 

"Don’t look at me like that. Trust me, you’ll want it. he second you start eating, your body will realize it needs this."

"I hardly think my body needs to triple its caloric intake in one meal, Newton."

"Dude, you’re hung over, I heard you in there. And how could you not be, you were black out drunk last night. For a German, you sure suck at holing your booze. Now, eat. You’ll thank me later." Hermann sighed and joined Newt, who already had three different kinds of breakfast meat in his mouth at once, at the table. 

"Would you care to tell me how I acquired this?" Hermann gesticulated at the bandage lightly, trying as hard as he could to not give Newt any ammunition which be hurled back at him. 

Newt shifted in his seat, and looked askance at the taller man. “You fell. Your…cane got caught, and you tripped and scraped yourself. Its fine… or it should be fine by tomorrow. Don’t worry about it, dude, I patched you up, its not gonna need redressing till you shower anyway.” 

Hermann narrowed his eyes, suspicious of how cool Newton was playing the whole thing off, considering normally there would have been such the commotion of hooting and hollering to accompany the tale. Perhaps, for once, Newton was actually saving him from humiliation. Hermann brushed away the thought, and started in on the pancakes, which to his surprise, did help. 

__

The day passed with relative uneventfulness. They both slept more, Newt made Hermann watch the first Gamera film with him, Hermann pretended not to like it, but secretly he found it entertainingly bad. They ordered in for dinner, and went to bed early. 

The next morning Hermann awoke alone. Newt was gone, already in the lab, presumably. The physicist rolled out of bed, feeling better than he had the day previous, and limped into the bathroom. As he waited for the shower water to warm, he abandoned his pyjamas. Just as he was about to walk into the cascade of steaming water, he stopped, recalling the bandage on his inner arm, and decided to take a look at the wound. Peeling away the medical tape slowly, her revealed not the deep red gashes he had been told to expect, but in their place,  _a tattoo_.

__

Newt heard Hermann’s cane thumping erratically and with force down the hall long before he even reached the entrance of the lab, so when the large metal door swung open to Hermann’s shrill cry of his name, Newt was already mid-cringe. As he hobbled towards Newt with surprising speed, he thrust out his inner forearm, the black lines marring its milk white surface. There, on his skin for all to see was half a heart, jagged on the edge, with Newt’s name in the center.

"Newton Geiszler I cannot believe that you allowed this…this  _abomination_  to happen when you were trusted with my well-being!”

"In my defense Herms, it was your idea."

"I was incapacitated!"

Hermann thumped angrily to the other side of the lab, grumbling about responsibility and should-have-known-better.

Without looking up, Newt meekly piped, “If it makes you feel any better, I have one, too.”

He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a matching tattoo with Hermann’s name in the half-heart, on top of white ink. “I had them white out some of my other tattoos so it would show up. Tendo thinks I ruined my sleeve, but I think this one is actually my favorite. See Hermann, they fit together.” He walked over to Hermann bearing his left forearm, holding it out to the tall, thin man. Hermann, reluctantly pushed his sleeve up to once more reveal the fine inked lines, which indeed not only matched Newton’s, but fit to its contours perfectly. He turned from Newt, forcibly pushing down the corners of his mouth.

"I do usually wear my shirts properly buttoned at the wrist, I suppose."

"Yeah, dude, it’ll be our secret."


End file.
